


Sponsors Are Available

by TimeWarSnapShot



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who: Virgin New Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22146682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeWarSnapShot/pseuds/TimeWarSnapShot
Summary: In the wake of First Frontier, a freshly Regerated Master seeks patronage.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Sponsors Are Available

He stood on the shore of Lago di Ledro as the sun dipped beneath the hills, watching a small boat steadily move towards the centre of the lake, bobbing gently with the excitement of a child as it went. No older than 8, the child moved wildly from one side to the other, peering over the edge as the small engine pushed them across the water.

It had been his father’s project, renovating the boat into something resembling working order. Naturally, the son had been drawn to the activity, ever-curious eyes watching the slow progress, mind afire with all the adventurous possibilities it represented. That day, when it was near-finished, idly waiting in the boat-house for the last few parts it required, the child’s waiting became too much.

He had to use it, had to see if it worked the way his father had shown him. It had started smoothly, pushing the boat and its would-be captain out onto the lake with little resistance. Any panic he might have felt died as the sheer scale of the Lake became apparent, this was an adventure, the sort he couldn’t wait to tell his father about.

He leaned forward, reaching out to touch his reflection in the water when the engine backfired, fright propelling the boy into the water. The man on the shore watched as the little boat continued on, leaving a frantic, splashing child who had only just learned to swim, and never in conditions like these, in its wake.

They would find the boat some hours later, beached on the opposite shore, a clue come too late to offer any insight into what had happened. By then they would have dredged the lake, found the body, added up the evidence. The child continued to fight the water, admirable really the man thought, but ultimately futile. Tiredness would set in, the boy would slip beneath the waves, the slowly dying ripples the only sign he had ever been there.

Driven half-insane with grief the father would turn his guilt outwards, externalise his pain and sadness on the surrounding areas. The murders would last half a year, each more garishly brutal than the last, producing tiny ripples of death & destruction in their wake. One would-be victim would survive, run the gauntlet, fight back. Even she would leave ripples, mangling the now monstrous father on the propeller of the very boat that started everything, forever haunted by the things she had seen and done in the name of survival.

All these things would come in time but for now, there was the lake, the child and the man on the shore watching it all. With one final anguished yell the boy slipped beneath the otherwise calm surface, water stealing what little air he had left as something from the deep dark below reached up and claimed him.

And there she was, standing on the shoreline.

Death. 

“Evening.” the man spoke plainly, only faintly aware of her presence at the edge of his vision, pointedly refusing to look at her reflection beside his. Neurons firing as he desperately searched for a way to explain the fear he saw etched on his face as a trick of the water. There was no reason to worry, he told himself, he had every right to be here.

She snorted. “I’ve come regarding..”

“You’ve come a-courting,” she scooped up a rock without moving, sending it skimming across the lake effortlessly. “Or so you’ve told yourself, even while you fail to follow tradition, instead choosing to intrude on this moment, _this private moment_ , in a bid to catch my eye.”

“I felt it was more expedient, the boy’s death, it’s a nexus…”

“They are all nexuses, you just didn’t want to put the effort in.” Another pebble shot across the lake, vanishing somewhere beyond the point where the child had been. “You think all those old rituals are beneath you, how much pride did you have to swallow to come here…no.” He felt her eyes on him, skin prickling as she peered at him, all focus on his reflection. Desperately waiting for her gaze to turn away. “Not pride, fear. Genuine fear at that. Something’s went and given you a proper fright.”

“Something like that.” he reached down for a pebble, skimming it against the water to little success.

“Try me.” she snickered. “I met a friend recently, he’s changed.”

“Literally or metaphorically, it can be so hard to tell with you lot”

“You know full well what I mean,” he forced his hands into his jacket, fighting the urge to turn and face her. “You of all people should know. For me it had been a few months since our last encounter but for him…”

“Centuries.”  
  
“More than that, something had fundamentally shifted. When we finally met, saw eye to eye as it were I could barely recognise him. He’s operating on a scale I can barely comprehend, let alone compete with. He can’t have done it himself, there must be someone…something else involved.”

“You think he’s hitched his wagon to a higher power so you come sniffing around, looking for one of your own, is that it?”

“Perhaps not in those terms.” He coughed awkwardly, peering up at the faint glimmer of a helicopter in the darkening sky. The search parties would be on the move, combing the surrounding area for hours, the futility of their actions building up minute by minute.

“You choose to play coy after engaging me in such a vulgar manner.” she sucked air through her teeth. “ _Little lord_ , you’re in danger of angering me.”

“Yes I want power, your power, your patronage!” he spat. “I need it, I need it to challenge him, to challenge the puppeteer pulling his strings his. But more than that, It would be mutually beneficial for the both of us, consider how often he works at odds to your concerns!”

“Mutually beneficial!” She laughed, a rattling wheeze of a thing that echoed around him. “Would you like to know how many people he’s killed since he started taking things seriously? I could tell you how you compared, would you like that? Mutually beneficial, the cheek.”

“Intent matters,” He protested, aware that she had circled behind him, leaning close to the back of his skull. “I have always served you faithfully in my own way”

“Oh really?” she crooned. “That’s a unique way of putting it. Your own self-interests more like. What if I told you that’s what your friend is doing, claiming allegiance to a higher force in a bid to justify actions he would have taken anyway.” Her breath stabbed at his back like ice. “Would it change what you’re asking for? Sway you from your course? Do you have any idea what you’re letting yourself in for? I doubt it, you’ve already committed yourself to it. Perhaps you always have.”

“What?” he caught himself half turning to face her.

“Go ahead Time-Lord, _ask me_.”

“Madame..”  
  
“Skip the pleasantries.” He felt his hearts stall for a just a moment, their sudden absence sending him to his knees.

“I would be your champion.” He coughed. 

“My champion?”  
  
“I will do your work in the universe, further your influence. Craft great works in your image. I would be Death’s Champion if you’ll have me.”

 _“ **No**.” _She was to his side again skimming rocks absently. He stumbled to his feet and turned to face her, anger overcoming fear in a single blazing moment. Revulsion and hate bubbling inside him at the sight of her knawing absence. He fired his TCE suddenly, only dimly aware of what he was doing, already scrambling backwards as the beam hit her to no effect. She turned to face him, a jittering screen-burn in the skin of a world regarding him with something less than contempt.  
  
“You should leave now.” 

He fled, already plotting terrible revenges that would be shelved when he reached the safety of his ship. Ire and abandonment forcing him to consider new possibilities, new courses of action, strange and terrible deeds that would echo forwards and backwards in time. Rippling outwards forever.

The wheezing groan of his ship echoed through the treeline and she turned to watch a large oak suddenly vanish into the night. For a few seconds, she remained focused on the empty space, soaking in the afterglow of the ship’s presence before doubling over in laughter. It echoed around the lake, loud and unheard by all but a chosen few. Nearby, as a waterlogged corpse was brought to the surface a father’s grief began the slow inexorable slide towards death and damnation. Straightening, she gave one last giggle.

“Idiot.“  
  
And like that, she was gone.


End file.
